Shattered Glass
by Firefly Rebirth
Summary: Their tragedy has repeated through the ages. Here the lovers emerge on Earth during the late 21st century. Will Lenne’s ultimate sacrifice be enough to save humanity from destruction, or will Shuyin manage to stop her from making it?
1. Lover

+

            Lenne studied the three-dimensional projection of her boyfriend's face for a few more seconds before extending one slim finger around the side of her handheld computer to press the white "off" button.  Shuyin's image vanished in an instant—his worried eyes, his mouth twisted by frustration—all gone.  In his message, he had only spoken three simple words:  "Meet me here."

            The young woman was perfectly aware of where 'here' was.  The message was from—she checked quickly, by turning the palm-sized device on again—two hours before.  Shuyin would already have gotten a notice that she had watched his email and would immediately grow impatient for her arrival.  That meant Lenne didn't have much time.

            Oh, God, why had she slept for so _long_?

            The woman rolled off her bed and headed from her bedroom into the small shower room next to the closet.  There she washed quickly before sitting in front of the mirror.  She combed her long brown hair while two robotic arms emerged on either side of her head and began blowing warm, fast air to dry it.  This task was completed quickly and the arms retreated back into the wall.  Lenne pulled her hair into a loose ponytail at the middle of the back of her head and secured it with a fat blue ribbon.

            Back in her small, oval-shaped bedroom, she collected the clothes she would wear.  There were shimmering blue-black jeans and a baby blue sweater, as well as thick white socks and a pair of thin white gloves.  At the front door she pulled on black pleather boots and checked her appearance in the mirror, pulling down some strands of hair to cover her face a little.  She didn't want to be recognized, didn't want the special meeting spot to be ruined like so many of the others had.

            "Lenne, where you are running off to so fast?  You slept enough?"

            She looked to the right side of the door and found her balding uncle entering from the living room, pushing his rectangular glasses up his nose.

            "Yes, I'm perfectly rested now.  And I'm meeting Shuyin," she added apologetically, clutching her hands together before her chest and bowing her head.

            "Don't you have a concert tonight?"

            "I won't be long."  In her mind, she was pleading to be let go.  Shuyin would already be waiting, whistling aimlessly to himself, glaring up at the ceiling in impatience…

            "I don't want another angry phone call from your manager," the man said, turning around to head back to his research.

            "Thank you, Uncle!"  Lenne lifted her head at last, and then bowed at her waist toward his retreating form.  She grabbed her jacket and went running out the door, careful not to slam it behind her.  Her feet flew down the three flights of stairs—a performer's legs were fully capable of avoiding elevators—and almost leapt into the breezy afternoon.

             The warm autumn sun felt good, but it served as a reminder to the celebrity.  She reached into her jacket pocket and retrieved a pair of thin sunglasses, which she promptly slipped on.  Keeping her head bent so that the loose hair would cover her face, Lenne walked briskly through the throngs of people, most talking rapidly into the small microphones of their headsets, some clasping their hands over their ears and shouting, "I can't hear you!  I can't hear you!"  They would turn the small dials on their wristbands to increase the volume of the speakers tucked inside their ears.

            Lenne was glad that everyone seemed so distracted.  No one could not stop her and request an autograph if he did not recognize her.  Still, the constant excitement was enough to make her feel a little dizzy.  All the talking, chatting, talking, buzzing, beeping…  Was there ever a time, perhaps very long ago, when people walked slowly and talked to one another face-to-face?  When people were content not to be so tied to those who were large distances away?

            Those days must have been buried in the very ancient past, she realized, looking around at the multitasking masses of her age.  Lenne sighed and moved on, venturing farther down the street through all the one-sided conversations.

            It took her fifteen minutes to reach the place, a spiraling crystal tower of an apartment building rising in protest of gravity, and another five to reach the second basement of it.  There she found Shuyin pacing back and forth in the dimness of the small, hidden room he had rented.

            Lenne went to the table by the couch and rid herself of her shoes, gloves, and jacket, placing the shoes on the floor and stacking the other items by the light.

            The blond man saw her and was immediately upon her, sweeping her up into his huge, muscular arms.  He kissed her neck even before issuing a greeting.  "Where were you?"

            "I had to get ready," she explained, blushing in the dimness.  Why did his caresses feel so _good_?  Why was the sound of his voice enough to make her heart beat wildly within her chest?  They had been together two years and yet each meeting brought renewed passion—perhaps because these meetings grew fewer and farther in between and much more rushed?

            It was all she could do to push him away.  "I just woke up when I got your message."

            "You never sleep that long," he said, caressing the side of her face with the back of a folded hand.

            She sat close to him on his modest brown couch, tucked safely under the shelter of his muscular arm.  She removed her sunglasses and placed them on the coffee table in front of them.  "I got to bed pretty late."

            "Where were you, Lenne?  You weren't in any classes Friday either…"

            "I told you."  She tried to put laughter into her words, tried to make it all sound like nothing.  It was silly he should worry like this, right?  He had no cause for concern, did he?  "I went to see my parents."

            Lenne hated doing this, hated hiding the truth from him yet again.  She would always tell as much of it as possible.  Sometimes she would burst, exploding with a plethora of unimportant tidbits from her life—just for the sake of telling him _something_.

            "How were they?"

            Good.  He was starting to sound disinterested.

            "They were well."

            "Did you have a good time?"  He was more interested in playing with her hair now, concentrated on touching any exposed skin—her neck, face, hands.  The blond man bent and began to kiss her again with earnest, pulling back her sweater to taste her shoulder.

            Lenne began to breathe heavily, unable to control herself.  This was the first time in two weeks they had had some privacy, and her boyfriend was certainly making the most of it.  All right.  If he was distracted, then he wouldn't ask her more about why she had disappeared, why she had just slept for more than a day…

            "I missed you so much," Shuyin said in his soft, deep voice.  "I was so worried when you wouldn't answer my messages…"

            She looked into his eyes with earnest.  "You always worry about me, Shuyin.  You should worry about yourself more."

            "I'm nothing without you, Lenne, you know that.  I wouldn't care about living if it weren't for you—"

            "_Shuyin_."

            "It's the truth.  Why can't I tell you what I feel?  How much I need you…"  He was taking off her sweater now, folding it loosely and setting it to the side.  He ran his fingers along her back, pulling her close and then letting her go to look at her with admiration and desire.

            Lenne lowered her eyes, her pale cheeks filling with color.  "I feel the same way about you, Shuyin…  I need you more than anything…  But I can't validate your existence for you!  Don't you know you're important?"

            He mumbled into her chest, his lips already busy traveling down from her collarbone.  Lenne ran her fingers through his blond hair, leaning backward so he was almost on top of her.  He rose so that he did tower over her and he kissed her lips greedily with an unrestrained passion.

            All the while Lenne was torn between thinking of the pleasure of their reunion and the secret pain buried within her.  She knew well how strongly Shuyin felt, but it wasn't right for him to place no value in himself.  He was everything to her too—her studies, her music, everything paled in comparison to him…

            She reached up and unbuttoned Shuyin's shirt now, occasionally pulling her face from his lips in order to suck in much-needed breaths.  It was quiet in the hidden basement apartment, but there was a sort of music in the pulsing of Shuyin's heart beating beneath her palm as she touched his chest, in the hot steam of his breaths upon her naked skin.

            "I love you, Lenne," he told her and began to repeat the phrase over and over.  Their bodies grew hotter as they were pressed against each other.

            They would reach a certain line and draw back before crossing it.  Lenne had decided early on against that ultimate sacrifice of virtue.  Shuyin had never complained.  He obeyed her wishes wordlessly, taking her only as far as she wanted.  They could express their physical love without taking a certain step, and for two years that had been enough.

            Shuyin reached over to click off the light.  He rolled to one side and brought her body on top of his own.  They were done now, content to rest in each other's arms after the shared passion.  Shuyin arranged his shirt over Lenne's bare torso and the young woman sighed contentedly, nestling the side of her face into the soft but firm flesh of his shoulder.

            "I could fall asleep," she said dreamily.

            "Why not?  We can stay here forever."

            "I have a concert tonight."

            She could hear him sigh with disappointment.  Then he was touching her again, drawing one finger up and down the back of her right arm. 

            She murmured her appreciation, tensing and relaxing as his stroke make her tingle with excitement and pleasure.  "Shuyin…"

            They touched lips for a brief moment, pressing mouth upon mouth.  She took her arms and wrapped them around her neck.  His hands went for her waist and the two people froze in this intimate pose, rubbing cheek against cheek and stroking face and torso.

            It was nice in the dark.  For a small moment, it was only the two of them; the rest of the world didn't exist.  Even time slowed just enough for them to properly enjoy it.

            Then the clock glowing green on the wall above them began to click the seconds by at its normal pace.

            "I did miss you in class.  I wouldn't be going to that university if it wasn't for our plan to spend more time together."

            "Shuyin, you know I'm busy."  She tried to scold him, but found herself being apologetic instead.  "I already made up the classes online…"

            "It's not the same without watching Professor Watanabe's nostrils flare up as he lectures—"

            "Shuyin!"  She struck him playfully.

            "What?  It's not."

            Lenne giggled.  "Oh, aren't we a little old for this?"

            "Twenty isn't old at all.  People live to be a hundred and twenty these days."

            "So you think you have an excuse to be immature?"

            "Sure I do."

            It was fun to be silly with him.  The world was such a dreadfully serious place with all the wars and the outbreaks of disease.  Japan was one of the few places left resembling a nation.  The other great powers had fallen.  Chaos ruled.

            That's why Lenne had reconsidered the boundaries for their relationship.  She would like to be married first, yes, but what point would there be in the act?  She was emotionally bound to him already.  Did she really wish to start a family now?  How cruel would it be to raise children in a world on the brink of destruction?

            "Hey, what's the matter?"

Even in the dark he was quick to sense a change in her mood.

            "I was just thinking about the world."

            "Ah."

            "Did you hear?  Another thousand people died in that attack in London…"

            "You can't always think about things like that, Lenne.  It's the world's fault for destroying itself."

            "What about all the children who died, Shuyin?  They didn't do anything to deserve such an early death."  She began to despair.  One billion people had been killed in the wars of the past twenty years alone—during her lifetime!

            "I wish there was a way to get rid of the adults causing all these deaths and leave the children to rebuild the world…"

            "Hmm?"

            "But there isn't.  Humans are corrupt.  They are killing themselves for the sake of their own greed.  Soon we'll all be gone…_that'll_ teach 'em," he added bitterly.

            Lenne rolled off of her lover and stood, her stocking feet in the brown carpet invisible in the darkness.  She pulled her arms through the sleeves of his short-sleeved collared shirt and fastened a pair of the middle buttons.  Behind her, Shuyin clicked on the light and room took on a dim quality.  Her eyes adjusted and she began to pace around, quivering quietly to herself.

            "Sorry," Shuyin said dismally from the couch.  He sat there with his head down.

            She had made him angry with himself, so she hurried to his side and rested her hands on his shoulders.  He put his hands on her waist again and buried his face in her stomach.

            "I know that's how you feel.  It just makes me depressed to think our world will be gone, that everyone will die…"

            "You won't die.  I won't let it happen."

            The determination in his voice startled her.  Even for Shuyin he sounded serious.  Lenne knelt on the floor beside his legs, resting her elbows on his knee and looking up at him.

            "I'll never let you die, Lenne."

            She had no words with which to respond.  It was ridiculous.  If the world was destroyed, how could they hope to survive?

            No.  The end of them would be the end of Earth, and they would die along with the other nine billion on their planet.

            "We all have to die sometime, Shuyin.  I only care about being with you."

            "I'll save you."

            She dropped her gaze.

+


	2. Songstress

+

            Lenne managed to make a decent meal out of the scraps available in Shuyin's cabinets and refrigerator.  He apologized, said he had meant to go grocery shopping but just hadn't gotten around to it yet.  Lenne understood, was happy to be able to care for him in any capacity—even if it meant throwing together a meal of instant ramen and steamed vegetables and stale rice crackers.

            Somehow she made it taste good.  Or maybe it was palatable because they were together.  Maybe that's what love was:  a distraction that made rotten food seem better.

            There were many things around to distract Lenne these days.  She crunched one of the crackers between a set of fine white teeth and thought back to her visit with her parents.  Being with them meant more work on the experiment, the one of which she was the main test subject.  The experiment, of course, was the source of her fatigue.  She was better at handling the sessions now, but the preliminary procedures had worn her out enough to sleep for days.  She now only slept a day at most.

            "So you'll be back at school tomorrow?" Shuyin asked.

            Lenne looked up, smiled, and nodded.  Her lover went back to slurping ramen noodles through his lips, and her thoughts returned to drifting.

            Her father and mother were military research scientists.  Shuyin would be furious if he knew that.  He hated the military, having lost his older brother, a captain in Japan's Imperial Air Force, seven years ago during a skirmish in Korea.  That brother had been his only family, and the loss meant growing up at fifteen, meant gangs and drugs, meant enough brushes with death that it was a miracle Shuyin was around to breathe.

            Her mind had taken her very quickly back to Shuyin.  Lenne looked at him, noticed his downcast eyes serious even as he devoured his food.  These dark eyes soon rose—did his spine tingle when her eyes were upon him, just as it was with his eyes on her?  Shuyin's expression softened, but the hard lines of his jawbone could not be remolded no matter how much he wished to please her.

            Lenne tilted her head and let her eyes tell him what he wanted to know:  that she loved him, that his happiness was her happiness, that she wanted him never to leave.  Shuyin shook his head with half pretended embarrassment, and his shining blond hair shifted around a handsome tanned face.

            He pushed back from the table and stood, a snap decision made.  "I'll go buy you some ice cream."

            "I have to leave soon—"  She stopped.  He would have his way and there was no point in delaying herself further by playing the silly, teasing game they often indulged in.  She reached out her arm instead.

            He squeezed her hand between calloused, athlete's fingers.

            "Hurry," Lenne urged softly.  True, she had to leave for the concert soon, but what she wished for more was to be with him as much as possible in the time they had left.

            The man obeyed, and she watched him go.  Why did it hurt so much anytime she saw his back?  Every time he walked away, for whatever reason?

            She was being paranoid, that was it.  _No point in worrying about what might happen, Lenne.  Worry about what is happening, and what you can do about it._

            Lenne got to her feet quickly.  She patrolled the dim apartment, straightening things here and there until the large room was in nearly perfect order.  She removed and folded the shirt of Shuyin's she had been wearing (he had simply donned another before eating), and hunted down her own sweater.

            In the small bathroom, she clicked on the light.  The long bulb in the light fixture above the mirror hummed as it brightened, and she was left to confront the reflection of her half-naked self in the mirror.  The room seemed terribly sterile.  The fine white tile put in shortly before Shuyin's rental was far too bright and shiny.  It reminded her of the room in the research lab where she was always taken, where she was directed to lay on a examining table and stay still as they strapped her down.

            Lenne turned around slowly, keeping her eyes fixed on the mirror.  She studied the tiny puncture marks forming a complex pattern on her back.  Her mother had promised that they would soon fade—perhaps within hours—but now it had been more than a day and the dots of whitish skin seemed as permanent as ever.  It wouldn't be the first time Mother had lied, but…  What kind of injections had they given her?  Why weren't these scars like any of the others?

            Was this what Father had been talking about?  He had failed at privately telling Mother that the experiment was "nearing completion" and "the final test is fast approaching."  Lenne had overheard that kind of talk before and nothing had ever come of it, no matter how apprehensive she had allowed herself to become.

            This time seemed different.  Mother had been acting as serious as Father.

            The sound of the door banging shut in the next room was enough to dislodge the image of her mother's frowning face from Lenne's thoughts.

            "Lenne?  Where are you?"

            She reached out and struck the toilet lever, causing the appliance to whoosh into action.  She ran the sink for a moment too before pulling the sweater on and pressing the switch to make the overhead light hum off.

            Shuyin was at the bathroom door when she opened it.  He presented a dripping chocolate ice cream cone.  The young woman bent forward and licked her first taste.  Her lover used his free arm to take hold of her waist and pull her body against his.  Together they slurped and bit the ice cream and cone until it disappeared, and then Lenne used her tongue to clean off the remaining stickiness from Shuyin's fingers.

            He inhaled sharply, bent his head down and captured her lips with his chocolate-flavored mouth.  Lenne found herself blushing beneath his passionate kiss.  To be outright _desired_ in this manner was sometimes overwhelming—perhaps because she felt the exact same way toward him.

            "I have to go," she tried to say, but her words were garbled thanks to his tongue.

            "No, you don't," he begged, his plea equally distorted.

            She wove her arm out from their tangled embrace and her hand found its way to his.  She intertwined their fingers before taking a small but meaningful step backward.  "Do too."

            "Do not."  He dove at her, and his lips fell to her neck and he buried his face beneath her hair.  Her waist was in his possession again.  "Do not, do not," he repeated, his breath warm and moist on her skin.

            "You want my agent after you?  You remember what happened last time."

            He released her in a second, and the woman stumbled a little in her surprise.

            "Shuyin?"

            "Go."  He softened his tone and added, "Only because I don't want to get you in trouble again."

            She smiled her thanks before collecting her belongings.  Sunglasses went over eyes, boots over feet.  "'Bye, baby."

            "Lenne…"

            "Hmm?"

            "Promise you'll be at class tomorrow?"

            "I promise."

            "And after?"

            "After we'll study."

            "Whatever you want."

            The next week passed without incident.  Local incident, anyway; there were five hundred more dead in South Africa, twice that many in Germany.   Lenne went to her room and cried the second night, the night of the day the fighting took a thousand lives.  She cried and prayed to whatever god could possibly be left, and she worked past her pain enough to return to the living room and share dessert with her aunt and uncle.

            Afterward she went back to her bed and sat, a pillow between her back and the carved headboard.  She sat wearing her pale sky blue pajamas, her legs stretched out, her feet bare and toes free to wriggle.  She clasped her hands over her chest and thought more about all the people dying in the war, even though she really didn't wish to.

            It hurt so much to think that everyone who died probably loved and was loved by as many people as any other human being on Earth.  In the seconds before dying, the victims must have thought of their loved ones.  There must be tremendous sorrow in knowing that you will never again be with those people for whom you care most.

            The survivors now had a pain to carry the rest of their lives—however long those might last.  The husband of one of the victims in Africa had started a riot and had ultimately set fire to his own village.  His pain had driven him mad and he had taken more lives in the process of revenge.  He killed and destroyed until the authorities finally shot him dead.

            Lenne pulled her legs to her chest and hugged them tight.  She rocked back and forth.  If somebody killed her, what would Shuyin do?  Would he feel so angry he would no longer care about anything else?  Would he go on a rampage?  Oh, God, what would become of him if something happened to her?

            She remembered the night eight years ago when she had seen the last test subject—the last one left beside herself—die.  He had gone into spasm, jolting incessantly within the restraints.  The observing scientists only scowled at him, did not even bother to sedate him and grant him a moment of peace.  His body came to a stop and the bank of monitors blared the same low, morbid tone until her mother stepped in and angrily shut them off.  Mother had happened to glance up then, had seen the terrified twelve-year-old Lenne watching, had proceeded to chase the child out.

            Lenne suddenly and unintentionally imagined herself kicking and screaming, cutting her ankles and wrists on the metal cuffs that bound her to the examining table in the lab.  Father and Mother would scowl down at her as the other scientists had scowled at that poor boy.  One of them, perhaps, would feel enough pity to administer a sedative.  Her eyes would close and her body fall limp.  Shuyin would hear of her death and rush into the research base and destroy everything in sight.

            It was far too easy to imagine him behaving that way.  She forced her eyelids open.

            The experiment wouldn't kill her.  If she had been weak, she would have died a long time ago like everyone else.  No, her body was perfectly suited for the experiment.  That's why she'd been the focus for almost eight years.  It wouldn't kill her, or else she would have died a long time ago.

            The woman reached one slender arm around and ran her fingertips over the bumps on her back.  They marks hadn't disappeared, and her mother's annoyed reply to Lenne's message had instructed her to "just deal with it."

            Lenne retracted her arm and clasped her hands together once more.  She rested her chin on her knees and stared straight ahead.  The injection sites, the chemicals in her body…  They could make her ill for days, wear her out to the point of exhaustion, but they couldn't kill her.  The experiment was one thing in the world against which Lenne could be strong.

            She now felt more confident.  She looked at the three-dimensional photograph next to her bed and smiled.  The picture showed her engulfed in Shuyin's large, powerful arms.   Behind them was the stadium, where he had just led his team to another victory.  He looked cocky and protective, but his eyes were warm with love.  Lenne was laughing in the picture, proud of his accomplishment and grateful for his embrace.

            She wouldn't die, and Shuyin wouldn't be driven to madness like that poor man in Africa.  She could do something about the world.  It would be small, but it would be something.

            The songstress left her bed for the desk near the closet door.  She activated the keyboard, which rose from within the metal surface of the table.   The vertical holographic display screen shone to life.  Lenne accessed her system, entering her password.  Once inside her private files, she opened up her 'Lyrics' folder.  She started a new document, and the cursor did not blink long on an empty page.

            Right now, her music was the only tool she had to use to do something for the people of the world she still loved.  Lenne closed her eyes and thought.  In a few moments she was humming to herself.  She heard her song and pictured herself dancing to it.  It would be an energetic, uplifting number.  It would be about living.  It would be about loving.  It would be about Shuyin.

            Five…four…

            Lenne stood very still in the center of the circular crystal stage.  Around her the crowd screamed with anticipation at being the first to hear her new single.  Around the world viewers were watching her concert online.

            Three…two…

            Her dark blue outfit was showing millions of fans much more skin than Shuyin wished them to see.  The ruffles of the collar tickled her neck with their brand-new stiffness.  Her incomplete gloves were strapped with black leather to her arms and wound around her hands.  Her miniskirt was short and black, but one side of it was covered by fabric light blue and long that swayed as she walked.  It would move much more once she started to dance.

            One.

            "_What can I do for you?_"

            Her prerecorded voice echoed through the great concert hall.  Lenne threw back her head and her shimmering brown hair spread out about her shoulders, soft as it settled back onto the backs of her bare arms and shoulders.  The spotlight covered her in a blinding white light and Lenne launched into her dance, holding her hip with her free hand and stepping forcefully but gracefully across the stage.  She spun, the long side of her skirt standing straight out as she did so.

            "_What can I do for you?  I can't hear you!_"

             Her back up dancers appeared on stage.  The idol held the microphone to painted lips and began to sing.  Would any of her listeners see through to the true meaning of the song?  Or would they fall in love with a seemingly brainless pop hit?

            "_The world of real emotion has surrounded me…_"

            It didn't matter in the end, as long as it made people happy.

            "_I won't give into it_…"

            Still, Lenne wanted them to listen.  She wanted to be heard and wanted to listen to their feelings in return.

            "_Now, I know that forward is the only way my heart can go_…"

            Most importantly, she wanted him to listen.

            "_I hear your voice calling out to me…_"

            Shuyin was in the front row.  If only the house lights were on, she would see his eyes carefully following her back and forth across the sage.

            _"You'll never be alone…"_

            The crowd was deafening.  Lenne spun again, clapping her hands together in time with the beat.  Her smile was huge as well as authentic.  The end of the song was near, and she put all her energy into this finale of her concert.  Digital fireworks boomed behind her.  The spotlight disappeared and she was left in darkness.

            There was another boom, followed by a crash.  Both were unrehearsed.  The stage had been bombed.  With only shattered glass beneath her, Lenne fell straight down.

+


	3. Subject

            Lenne was only slightly awake.  She was a crumpled heap hanging over the crisscrossing metal bars that supported the stage.  Her legs—one broken—hung roughly straight down.  The material of her right sleeve had caught on a bar some distance up so that her arm was twisted and suspended above the woman's body.  Gravity had smashed her face into cold metal, and she could feel hot blood pooling inside her left cheek.

            Suddenly she was conscious.  Blood!  The shards of glass had fallen down with her, slicing up her exposed skin and clothes before continuing to fall the twenty meters to the stone floor at the base of the arena.  Oh, _God_, the sticky blood was everywhere!  Lenne began to breathe heavily with fear.  Who would find her lying there, who would see that her blood was not red as it was supposed to be?

            Things were still dark.  Her brain honed in on the sounds from above.  There were shouts, and they were growing louder—closer.

            "There's a hole in the stage—please, _sir_, you can't go any farther!" yelled a nervous, high-pitched voice Lenne thought might be one of her bodyguards.

            "Outta my way!  Lenne's there!"  It was the deep, commanding voice of Shuyin.

            Lenne bit her already bruised lip and tried not to cry.  Of course there were tears collecting in her eyes from the pain, but she refused to let any fall out of fear.

            Still, the fright was overwhelming.  Her heart was wild within her chest, pushing blood faster and faster through her body to gush out of her wounds.

            This was it, wasn't it?

            A light would come on and Shuyin would be standing over her.  He would look down and see that the blood weeping from her body was not the right color.  Would he think she wasn't even human?

            Maybe she _wasn't_ human, not anymore…

            "_Let me go!_"

            "Sir, no—"

            "_Lenne!_"

            Her arm pulled the woman upward and gravity tried to drag her down.  The metal bars that had crushed her bones and bruised her skin now constituted the only barrier between herself and the shattered glass on the arena floor so many meters below.  The pooling tears overflowed, and, mercifully, the pain finally drove Lenne into a state of unconsciousness.

            She awoke on a clean white bed covered with a single, clean white sheet.  Even before she opened her eyes, Lenne knew exactly where she was; her nose alerted her to the familiar smells of the laboratory where she had spent so many hours, her mouth recognized the peculiar taste of the air.

            The room was empty for only a moment.  It was then that Lenne struggled to raise her head off the pillow and the bank of controls on the far wall began to flash light blue in response.  Her father entered, clipboard in hand, eyes lifeless as usual.

            "Daddy," she said, and her hand immediately went to her left cheek.  She felt no scar, nor any residual pain.  She inspected her body quickly and saw only faint scars where the deepest cuts had been.  Even her broken leg bore only a thin cast about it.

            Her father walked over.  He took one square hand and pushed dark hair from his face, as was habit.  Those gray eyes that met his daughter's—they actually showed relief.  Later, Lenne would reason that he was happy only in the survival of a precious test subject, but, at that moment, her heart was warmed by what appeared to be fatherly concern.

            "What happened?"

            He stopped looking at her.  He rolled a stool from the control panels to her bed, sat on it and began to take her vitals.  The handheld computer in his hand gathered the data and beeped as it created charts and graphs.

            He was a short man, and when he stood this fact was emphasized.  His voice, which he actually started to use, had a tendency to go up and down when he was excited about something.  Presently, however, he spoke monotonously, as was almost always the case with Lenne's mother.  "WWRM attacked your concert."

            Lenne was sitting up before two seconds had a chance to tick by on the sterile clock of the far wall.  Her legs swung over and her feet moved downward in an attempt to touch the gray tile floor, but her father waved a discouraging hand.  Lenne obeyed, choosing to employ her vocal chords instead.  "WWRM?  Why?"

            WWRM was an acronym for World Wide Resistance Movement, and that's exactly what it was:  an international terrorist organization that struck at all governments it viewed as unjust.  It stood firmly on one side of the planet's war.  Of course, there were about a half dozen distinguishable sides.

            "Don't ask me.  Apparently they wanted to bring Japan into the war, and now they've succeeded."

            "So it's beginning…"

            "You're a smart girl," announced a new voice.  It was the commanding tone of Lenne's mother, who had just entered the room.  She was a tall woman, towering nearly a foot and a half over her ex-husband.  Her brown hair was cropped short around her ears, and her face itself, hidden behind a constantly disgruntled expression, was a matured version of her beautiful daughter's.

            "Why would they attack my concert?  They don't know about me, do they?"

            "I don't see how they could have known.  Unless…"  Lenne's mother came at her almost as a lioness pounces upon her startled prey.  Glaring down her nose at the young woman, the scientist demanded, "You didn't tell anyone, did you?"

            "Of course not!  I never told anyone!"

            "Not even that no-good boyfriend of yours?"

            "He's not no-good!  How dare you say that!"

            The woman drew back slightly, apparently surprised by her daughter's explosion.  "It was never a good idea to let her continue performing," she said, turning to Lenne's father.  "Some rabid fan could have stalked her."

            Anger surged inside of Lenne.  She sat there shaking, staring at the lap of the pale blue hospital gown.  She folded and unfolded her hands, shaping them into overlapping fists.  They had never understood why she insisted on keeping her career.  They didn't understand that military research was only one method of helping people.  They never saw that working to save people's lives wasn't enough, that making people happy was just as important.

            "Maybe they bombed the concert because of what it stood for."

            Lenne looked up to see her father confronting her mother.  Well, it wasn't exactly a _confrontation_, but for him not to automatically agree—especially on a matter concerning Lenne—was rare and, therefore, serious.

            "It's a possibility," Lenne's mother finally conceded.  "And at least Michael got in there right away."

            Michael was Lenne's manager, although he first and foremost was answerable to her parents.

            "What color _is_ my blood these days?" Lenne wondered dully, annoyed at their tendency to exclude her conversations of which she was the subject.

            "Purple," replied her mother sharply.  It sounded like a joke, but Lenne knew better.

            "So…did anyone see?"

            "Michael got a private ambulance jet in there right away.  At least he's worth the money he makes us pay him."

            "What about Shuyin?  Is he okay?"

            "From what I hear, he caused a nuisance.  He got so mad they wouldn't let him on the ambulance that he—"

            Lenne leaned forward.  "That he what?  Mother, tell me."

            Her mother moved back another few steps before turning around to face the control panel.  She began to enter some information at warp speed, her fingers flying across the buttons.  "That he killed the co-pilot."

            Lenne was put under sedation for the rest of the day.  Eventually, when the medicine wore off, she was allowed simply to sleep.

            Hours later she awoke in the dark.  She investigated a little with curious hands and found that her medical treatment had continued while she was out.  The cast was gone and she could no longer feel scars on her legs or arms.

            She twisted one of these healed arms around her back and discovered even more bumps there than before, and that they added to the complexity of the strange pattern.  The injections had also continued, apparently, and they left more of the scars that did not heal.  It was as if the scars themselves served some sort of purpose.

            When Lenne thought about the pattern, she thought about inspecting it in Shuyin's bathroom mirror.  This, in turn, made her think of Shuyin and what her mother had told her.

            _"…he killed the co-pilot."_

            Lenne used both hands to trap the rising screams inside her mouth.  Outside the closed door was undoubtedly a guard, and she had no wish for a stranger to come in and see her in so much pain.

            So, instead of screaming, Lenne pulled her knees to her chest and wept quietly into the sheet covering them.  She couldn't get imagined images of Shuyin out of her head.  She knew how angry he could get when he felt people he cared about were threatened, and she distinctly remembered the anger in his voice when she was caught under the stage.

            In a soft and trembling voice, she made one of the most terrifying realizations of her life.

            "He killed someone…because of me…"

            Lenne's parents let her go home the following week, although she was supposed to stay in the apartment at all times.  She was not unaccustomed to house arrest, and, for the first time in a long while, she was glad for an excuse to hide in the safety of her bedroom.

            On her desk she had found her buzzing handheld, which she promptly turned off.  A dozen new messages were waiting for her, and she knew they were all from Shuyin.  If she opened just one, he would know, and he would become even more desperate to see her.

            Desperate, that's what he was.  A desperate man, acting irrationally without any consideration for others.  He resented her bodyguards, he always had—in fact, she knew he resented the whole business.  He said he didn't like to think about all the men out there watching her videos and objectifying her.

            "You're just another hot body to them!"  At first he would yell, but then he said more gently, "I know you're beautiful where it counts."

            Lenne blinked at her reflection in the mirror.  A ghostly Shuyin emerged from her imagination to stand behind her.  He proclaimed she was beautiful, placed his hand over her heart before sliding it up her neck and letting it rest against her cheek.

            She smiled to think of how completely he loved her.

            But then Shuyin turned, scowling at an imaginary opponent.  He had a blade in his hand.  He charged, killing the other ghost almost instantly, all the while a smile on his lips.

            Lenne gasped in horror.  She pulled away from her phantom lover to the sanctuary of her bed, where she found asylum only beneath her thick comforter.  "Lights off!" she ordered, and the Environmental Control System, the ECS, immediately obeyed her command.

            The images wouldn't fade back into her memory.  They stayed in her consciousness, they taunted Lenne as she futilely kept her eyes squeezed shut.  Her mind refused to be blinded.

            What had happened to Shuyin now?  She suddenly found herself preoccupied with the matter.  Was he in jail, facing a stiff sentence?  Would he be swiftly executed for his crime?

            Lenne leapt from her bed.  She was sweating and shivering at the same time.  She hugged herself and stumbled about her darkened bedroom.  Shuyin…dead?  She would never see him again?  Never again hear his voice?  Kiss his lips?  Hold him?

            "No!"  She meant for the scream only to sound within the confines of her own troubled self, but it echoed within the room instead, flung out by dried lips.  The word came out again and again, and she muffled her screams with trembling hands.

            _He killed a man_, one part of her said.

            _I know…but it was for me, don't you see that?  If it hadn't been for me…_

            "Lenne?"

            There was a voice outside the door, followed by knocking.

            Lenne, now a crumpled heap on the floor, clawed at the wall until she was standing.  "What is it, Aunt?"

            "I heard something…are you all right?"

            "Yes, sorry…  I had a nightmare."

            "Do you need to talk about it?"

            "No, no thank you."

            "Good night, then."

            "Wait—"  Lenne pushed down on the button located next to her door and the thing slid open, revealing her aunt standing there, a tall figure cut from a dim rectangle of light from down the hall.

            The woman was Lenne's mother's sister, and, while she was almost as tall as the scientist, her features were a little rounder.  She also had longer, lighter hair than her sole sibling, and it came down to her shoulders in one soft, rounded wave.  At one time the woman had been a model, known worldwide by only her first name, Aki, but she had suddenly quit ten years ago for unknown reasons.

            "What is it, Lenne?"

            "Mother and Father told you about Shuyin, didn't they?"

            Aki shifted her weight, looking slightly uncomfortable.  "What about him?"

            "The…the co-pilot…"

            Aki frowned.

            "I just wondered…"  Lenne bit her lip.  She was afraid of the answer to her pressing question.  "What did they do to Shuyin?"

            "He got off as far as I know.  In the confusion, people blamed the pilot's death on the terrorist attack and that was that.  Your parents really have some leverage, honey," she added, her expression strange.

            "What?"  Part of it made sense; how could Shuyin have sent her those messages from jail?  But nothing else came neatly together in her mind.  Had Shuyin gotten away with murder?  And why would her parents have done anything to help him, given what they usually had to say concerning his and Lenne's relationship?

            "Lenne…"

            She looked up into her aunt's face.  But the woman only smiled sadly and shook her head.

            "Aunt?"

            "Your uncle wanted me to make dessert.  Let's go have some, okay?"

            "Okay."

            As they walked together down the hall, aunt ahead and niece a few steps behind, Lenne attempted to straighten out her hair with her fingers and to rub sorrow from her eyes with her fist.  She could be teary-eyed in front of her aunt, perhaps, but her uncle was another matter.

            Lenne was nearly silent as they ate.  She had decided what to do about Shuyin.


	4. Weakling

Another two weeks passed. Time crept along slowly, even as Lenne did everything she could think of to keep herself occupied. She cleaned the entire apartment, prepared everyone's meals, read through five thick novels—historical fiction, her favorite genre—and worked on her compositions. She wrote several poems that ended up in the trashcan on her computer's desktop before they were anywhere near completion.

Her feelings were far too complex to be simplified into words. She hadn't faced it before, but now Lenne was discovering that even the realm of poetry had its limits. There were a thousand things to say, yes, but she had no idea where to begin.

With a sigh, she instilled herself with patience. Looking at Shuyin's portrait through a blurred filter of sadness, Lenne forced herself to hold on. Just a little longer. Everything was certain to fall into place soon.

Alone in the middle of the day, Lenne tread deliberately through the apartment. She began to hum a made-up tune to herself. Words had failed to capture the beat of her heart that day, but this new melody was different. At last she felt some sort of release!

Lenne was singing now. Lyrics came to mind and she tried them out. Some fit; others didn't. She discarded, replaced, and manipulated phrases at will. Her song was far from completion, but, like her feelings, it was evolving. After a while, she felt comfortable putting it to rest for the time being.

She knew it was time.

Lenne left a note that informed her aunt and uncle she was gone in search of fresh air and a color other than the beige of the living room and kitchen walls.

It was not a complete lie. In a white dress and heels she went for her walk, hair free and sunglasses on. The thin straps of her dress supported an attractive corset-style top and flowing skirt. The cool wind was refreshing as it danced around her bare arms and legs. She felt traces of happiness for the first time since the concert. She observed with delight the laughing of school children (the boys eyeing her with unconcealed admiration), the smiles of friends—even the warning shouts of a man speeding down the street on his old-fashioned bicycle.

For a few minutes she was alive, sexy, and free. This was what life needed to be: this happiness, this carelessness, the mothers and fathers walking hand-in-hand with children, the friends locking arms on their way from class to karaoke, the businesspeople loosening ties between the office and their favorite bar.

However, it took only a closer look to detect the fear just beneath the surface. People clung a bit closer to their friends and stayed bit farther from strangers. There was apprehension in discreet looks upward at planes flying a little too low, there was true terror in response to every loud noise. People were afraid.

Lenne found herself eyeing the pavement more than the people now. She walked hurriedly to her destination, wanting to make it all go away. Not the people—no, she loved them, especially the children—but their poorly concealed fear.

Police officers in their white hardhats were stationed at every major intersection, tapping batons against their open palms as they eyed passersby. Digital billboards announced the mandatory curfew of sunset. Anyone found on the streets a half hour after dark would be sent to jail.

The peace was an illusion. The brilliant letters outlining martial law intimidated Lenne as much as anyone else. No one was safe after all.

It pained her inside.

At her frenzied pace she reached Shuyin's building in no time. She went to the basement and paused at least a meter from his door. If she got too close, he might be able feel her presence. Worse still was the possibility that _she_ would be able to feel _him_.

Suddenly it was too soon. She had been so determined for days now, driven to frustration because she had yet to get the ugly business over with. But how in the world could she carry out her well-crafted plot? Get rid of him as she planned? Make things better for him as well as those he might hurt?

Lenne found herself stumbling backward. Her whole body was shaking. She wanted to be selfish and that dark part of her heart was gaining control. It was an ugly black cancer whose greedy cells were multiplying exponentially.

With a burst of self control, the woman forced herself toward the door. She hit it with one open hand, almost bruising that palm. She stood erect, biting down on her lip to keep her feelings in check. This would soon prove to be an impossible task as soon as the door opened. The woman let out a gasp.

It had been years since she had witnessed her lover in such poor shape. His face, taken over by an ignored abundance of facial hair, was dirty and pale. His eyes were sunken in, almost emotionless. His blond mane, as neglected as his new beard, flared out in every direction. He wore no shirt, either, revealing a muscular torso weakened by malnutrition. He wore only a pair of baggy black boxers.

It looked as though he hadn't eaten in weeks.

Lenne's eyes grew wide. She was thankful for the sunglasses—they served to hide some of the icicles of pain assaulting her heart.

Shuyin was leaning heavily against the wall. He raised his gaze to reveal lifeless eyes colored only by suspicion, as if she were a phantom he'd seen once too many times to believe.

Against her will, Lenne reached out a hand to touch her lover's face.

He jerked his head up now, shock evident on his sunken features. One limp hand reached up and fastened itself around her wrist. Gaining strength, he pulled himself to a stand. "It's you?"

"Yeah," she replied, using all her strength to hold back tears.

_No_, she insisted within herself. _You came here to say—_

"Lenne…"

Shuyin's voice was weak. Him calling her name, though, was strong enough to pull her closer. To see his pain firsthand—pain she herself had inflicted…

_No…_

He staggered far enough to close the last distance between them. He swallowed her body up in his arms, which were strong and warm despite their fragile appearance.

"Shuyin, you idiot," she cried softly into his shoulder after he fell against her.

It was she who felt like an idiot, however.

_Lenne, you weakling. You came here to say goodbye._

About half an hour later, Lenne found herself entering Shuyin's bedroom to check up on him. She carried on a tray a steaming bowl of miso soup as well as some rice and a simple chicken dish she had cooked up from a package found in the man's freezer.

He was waking up now. He groaned with the effort it took to sit up on the pillows she had stacked behind him. Still, the man was the first to break the heavy silence.

"So I'm an idiot?" he asked weakly, smiling at her somewhat mischievously.

"Of course!" she cried, letting her emotions overwhelm her yet again. "You had all this food and you weren't eating it! You know you could've…"

Lenne couldn't bring herself to say it. She couldn't imagine a world where Shuyin didn't exist, at least not without going into fits again. She had, after all, come to prevent that fate from being an option—and here he was slowly carrying out a death sentence on himself.

"I tried to eat," he told her softly. "I did. But I just couldn't keep it down. Thinking you might be gone…it made me sick."

"What?"

"And why would I want to live if you weren't here anymore?"

"Shuyin, what do you mean? Oh, nevermind… Just eat something now."

He obeyed as she stood and watched over him. She had never considered the possibility that he didn't know she was still alive. Of course, what would have hurt him more? To know she was dead, or that she was living and breathing and ignoring him? She had a feeling the latter would have killed him before now.

Lenne found an excuse to be alone.

"I'm going to run you a bath. You smell awful." She tried to laugh as she said it, tried to make it a joke, but found that impossible.

"I'm sorry."

"It's fine."

But it wasn't fine. She jabbed the control panel of his bathroom with trembling fingers, turning the water on as high as it would go. The room was quickly filled with steam and the sound of boiling water tumbling down into the tub. With this as her cover, Lenne put her back against the wall and slid downward to sob into her knees.

The outburst was short-lived; she forced it to be that way. With the aid of the bathroom mirror, Lenne washed out her red eyes until they appeared normal. She even made sure to employ the use of a neglected comb from Shuyin's drawer to straighten out her hair.

"Finished with your dinner yet?" she asked loudly as she reentered the bedroom.

"Almost," he said, greeting her with a wave of his chopsticks. He slurped down the last of his soup and took the final bites of his rice.

"Good," she said with true relief. He wasn't as close to death as he had first appeared if he found the strength to eat so quickly—right? Lenne knelt at the side of the bed. "Do you feel sick at all?"

He shook his head. "Not a bit. Not with you here," he added, placing his hand over hers.

Lenne involuntarily drew back. He was reaching out to her in a way that was difficult to resist. "You think I'm going to touch you when you smell like that? I think it's about time we got you cleaned up."

It was a slow and painful process to get Shuyin out of bed and down the hall, and a rather breathless one to rid him of his remaining item of clothing and help him step into the small shower room of his apartment. Lenne rose to leave him be, but he grabbed her hand.

"You can't do this by yourself?"

He didn't want to admit it. That was all right; she was already aware of his answer.

"Okay." Lenne knelt again. She took a small plastic bucket, filled it with warm water, and poured it over his filthy body. She repeated the process several times, trying to let the water go slowly so that it wouldn't splash onto her dress.

Shuyin lifted a sponge and began to wipe the grime from his arms and legs. Lenne wet his hair and shampooed it, reminding him gently to close his eyes. She alternated scrubbing and rinsing his body before deeming him clean enough for a soak in the deep and spacious Japanese-style bathtub.

He looked up at her. Now that his face was clean, she could see his cheekbones even more easily. She traced them with care. "Come on," she urged, afraid of what she had just seen flash in his dark eyes.

She was happy to see his body sink beneath the water. Even a half-starved Shuyin was enough to stir certain feelings within the woman. Now that he was clean, the scent of him was working on her. She sat next to the tub and tried to keep her hands off of him.

Her defenses fell apart easily.

Lenne ran her fingers through his wet hair, rubbed his stiff shoulders—kept herself in constant contact. She had come here to end it with Shuyin, but, now that he needed her more than she needed him, there was no way to say goodbye. Looking at him now, as he rested his tired head within the curve of her arm, she could no longer imagine him taking another man's life.

Twenty minutes passed slowly and comfortably. Lenne let her fingers splash the top of the green water (she'd added bath salts to better relax her companion.) The opaque water was the perfect temperature to ease both their fears.

Lenne looked at his peaceful face, finding she wanted to kiss him. She began to squirm in place as her desires mounted. She stood again, walked away to get a towel. "C'mon, it's time to go back to bed."

To her surprise, Shuyin slowly but surely stood and climbed of the tub free of assistance. At that time she beheld him fully and her whole body flushed. He took the towel and together they dried him off.

"You got your dress all wet," he announced playfully.

Lenne looked down to see that her white dress was soaked through to reveal her underclothes. No wonder he was smiling like that. She hit his arm lightly.

Shuyin gently pushed her out of the bathroom. "Give me a minute," he said, his voice sounding a bit stronger than before.

Encouraged, Lenne returned to the bedroom. She pulled her wet dress over her head and placed it near the heating vent. In Shuyin's closet she found a robe, which she quickly put on.

_What am I thinking about doing?_ she growled at herself. _Taking care of him is one thing…_

Lenne sat on the edge of the bed wringing out her damp hair. It was all wavy now that it was wet. She let out a big sigh and fell back into the comforter. She was overwhelmed with feelings she hadn't expected to confront. First overwhelming pity and now this…?

She turned on her side and folded up into a ball. She did not notice Shuyin's reappearance until he touched her bare leg—well, not only _touched_ it, but stroked it, beginning at the ankle and letting his hand progress upward.

Breathing hard, she struggled to sit up. The robe fell open. Shuyin lowered himself to the bed and pressed his newly-shaven cheek against her chest.

"Mmm," was the best argument she could come up with as he pulled the robe off of her entirely.

Then a thought struck her. Lenne backed away. Now that she felt the cool air of the room on her burning skin, she remembered the scar pattern on her back. If they were about to do what Shuyin wanted—oh, Hell, she wanted it just as much—there was no way he wouldn't see or feel it.

"What is it?" he wanted to know.

Lenne reached over and touched the light switch imbedded in his bedside table.

Shuyin protested, leaning over to undo her handiwork.

"Uh-uh," she said, catching his arm and pulling his hand to her mouth. Her lover took the bait, pressing his fingers between her lips. Now, her only remaining task was to keep his hands from her back.

They reoriented themselves on the bed, Shuyin guiding their bodies together. Where had he found all this energy?

"I want you," Shuyin declared before fastening his hot mouth onto her neck and sucking passionately. He came up for air and told her again, pulling the towel from his waist.

"No…" she breathed, but her body was telling him the opposite. "You need to rest—Shuyin—"

Their lips met and he used the opportunity to bring them even closer together. His skin was soft, warm, and moist against her own. Tears came to her eyes, but, at the same time, her body shuddered with pleasure at his powerful caresses.

The man grew unusually aggressive in his actions, his strength reawakened in the heat of passion. Lenne cried out for him to stop, but he must have known she felt otherwise because he kept going.

"No," he moaned loudly. "I've got you… I'm not letting you go…"

She grabbed at his face and pulled him into another kiss.

After that, there were no more half-hearted protests.


End file.
